My Name is Barbara
by High Stream
Summary: Barbara Millicent Roberts (don't call her Barbie!) meets alternate universe versions of herself and learns three important things: 1. In every universe she chose a different profession. 2. In every universe (except her own) she is world-renowned in her field. 3. There is an Empress Barbie who is trying to conquer the multiverse.
1. Chapter 1

"My name is Barbara."

The voice from the darkness paused. "I'm sorry?"

"My name is Barbara," the young woman at the desk replied. "Barbara Millicent Roberts. Not Barbie."

There was another pause. "But you go by Barbie."

"Not since I was a child."

Still another pause. "No one calls you Barbie?"

"Well, my grandmother does, but I think to her I stopped aging after the age of six."

There was the sound of typing, accompanied by a "hmmmm" that sounded as though what Barbara had said was the most surprising thing the voice had heard all day.

"Who are you?" Barbara asked. "Why am I here?"

"We will answer your questions in a moment," answered the female-sounding voice, "but first we need to know a few things about you."

"I want a lawyer."

"We're not the police."

"Then who are you?"

"That is a good question with an interesting answer," the voice said with a chuckle, "and I will answer it, but first I need you to answer some questions. The best I can tell you for now is that we will not harm you, and we will let you go when we've learned what we need to know. Just so you know, I'm not going to ask you any questions that aren't a part of public record or that we couldn't get from your social media."

"Then why even bother asking me at all?"

"Because we are pressed for time and because there is value in hearing you answer them."

Barbara thought about this for a moment. She didn't know who she was dealing with or how to get out of it, so she decided to cooperate, for the time being. "All right, what do you want to know?"

"First question: How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight years old."

"How many members in your immediate family?"

"Just me and my parents."

"Do you still live with them?"

"Yes."

"And you don't have any siblings?"

"I had a sister, but she died."

There was a pause in the typing, which had been constant since the questioning had begun.. "What was her name?"

"Skipper."

There was another pause. "How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"There was a fire."

Pause. "I'm very sorry to hear that." The voice sounded sincere.

"It's all right. It happened a long time ago."

The typing continued. "No other siblings?"

"Nope."

"Do the names Tutti, Todd, Anastasia, Kelly, or Chelsea mean anything to you?"

"Should they?"

"Do they?"

"No, they don't."

"Then they probably shouldn't. Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Not currently, no."

"Do you know a man named Ken Carson?"

"Yeah, he's one of my best friends. Is he in trouble?"

The voice chuckled. "Heh. No, no he's not in trouble. Did you ever date him?"

"Who, Ken?"

"Yes, Ken."

"No, Ken's gay!"

The typing stopped. "Say that again?" the voice said slowly.

"What, that Ken's gay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he and Blaine have been married for like three years. They're very happy together."

"Blaine Gordon?"

"That's right. Why is that important? These questions are getting really weird."

"Sorry about that. Just one more question. What do you do?"

"Do?"

"As a career. Your profession. Are you a teacher, a businesswoman, or a scientist, perhaps?"

"Well no. I'm currently just working as a lifeguard part-time while I go to community college."

The typing stopped "Wait wait wait. Community college? Have you decided on a major?"

"I really don't know yet."

"And you're twenty-eight?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Do you have any life plans unrelated to what you're studying? Are you a painter? A singer? Are you an aspiring writer? Do you have some unpublished novels you've been working on?"

"No! Well, I've dabbled in all those things, but I never stuck with any of them long enough to get very good at them."

"So do you mean to tell me that you are twenty-eight years old and you have not settled on a career or made any significant accomplishments in your life?"

"Yes!" Barbara shouted," that is exactly what I'm telling you! I've spent ten years bouncing between community college and part-time jobs and haven't settled on anything. I don't have a husband or a boyfriend and I still live with my parents! Is that what you want me to admit to you? Why do you care so much about it? Why is that so important that you have to kidnap me in the middle of the night and ask me questions that everyone already knows the answers to?"

For the first time, the voice addressed someone other than Barbara. "Is she telling me the truth?"

Another voice, which sounded a lot like the first, answered. "All our scanners say she is."

"And we're sure this is Barbara Millicent Roberts?"

"Again, all the scanners say she is."

A third voice, also similar to the first two, asked, "Have you finished your assessment yet? What do you think?"

Barbara spoke up: "assessment? What's going on?"

"My assessment is that she's ready to learn the truth."

The third voice answered: "Then proceed."

The light shining in Barbara's face dimmed and the lights in the back of the room turned on. At the other end of the table were three women sitting in front of laptop computers. Barbara was shocked to see that all three of them, despite different clothes and hairstyles, had identical faces. She was even more shocked to realize that she recognized their faces, because they matched hers!

"Hello, Barbara," said the woman in the middle. "My name is also Barbara Millicent Roberts, but you can call me Psychoanalyst Barbie."


	2. Chapter 2

Barbara stared at the women sitting in front of her. "What's going on here?" She asked. "Are those masks?"

The one wearing a suit who called herself "Psychoanalyst Barbie" answered. "I assure you, they're not masks."

Barbara had never seen a mask move like that. "Then what? Are you clones of me?" Her eyes widened. "Am I a clone? Is that what this is about?" She gasped and shot up out of her chair, backing up against the wall. "Is this like in Never Let Me Go and you're going to harvest my organs?"

Psychoanalyst Barbie held up her hands and suppressed a smile. "Relax, no one is here to harvest your organs."

"Besides, if we wanted to take your organs, we wouldn't bother interviewing you, we'd just take them," said the woman sitting behind some odd looking machinery. The other two women gave her a sidelong look. "What? It's only logical."

"Engineers," the one who hadn't spoken muttered under her breath. She had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and had a look of authority about her. She turned to Barbara. "Relax, kid, nothing's going to happen to you here. Take a seat and we'll explain everything." She gestured to the empty chair, which Barbara hesitantly took. "Have you ever heard of the multiple-universe theory?"

Barbara was taken aback. Theoretical physics questions were not what she expected to hear from kidnappers. After she collected herself she answered. "Well, yes. That's the theory that there are an infinite number of universes, each one exploring every possibility of, um, everything ever happening. Wait, is that what you're saying is happening here? Are you trying to tell me that you are all parallel universe versions of me? Because that's ludicrous."

Psychoanalyst Barbie held up one hand in a placating manner. "Yes, yes it is ludicrous," she said, "it also happens to be true. We are all named Barbara Millicent Roberts, but you can call her," she gestured to the authoritative one with the ponytail, "Police Profiler Barbie and she's Biometric Engineer Barbie," she said, pointing to the one in front of the odd machine.

Barbara sat back with her mouth open, flummoxed. "You...you really expect me to believe that."

Police Profiler Barbie put her hands down on the table and stood up. "Is anyone hungry?" she asked, "because I am starving." The others looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and surprise.

"You want to skip the orientation and go straight to lunch?" Biometric Engineer Barbie asked.

The ponytail woman nodded. "Yeah, I think we should take a break and take Barb...Barbara to the cafeteria to get something to eat." Barbara wondered about the stress on the word "cafeteria."

Psychoanalyst Barbie nodded in understanding. "Good idea. I could really go for some yogurt." She turned to Barbara. "Are you hungry? I bet you're thirsty, at least."

Barbara threw her hands in the air. "All right, let's take the crazy train to the cafeteria. I need a drink to deal with this, anyway." As they all stood up, Barbara noticed for the first time that the room they were in wasn't an interrogation room, but looked more like a conference room, complete with a projector and a white board. As Police Profiler Barbie led the way, Barbara asked "So why do they call you Police Profiler Barbie?"

Police Profiler Barbie smiled. "Because I'm a Police Profiler and my name is Barbie."

"Why Barbie, though? Why don't you go by 'Barbara?'"

"I should ask you the opposite question. The vast majority of us prefer to be called 'Barbie,' so one of us wanting to be called 'Barbara' is very unusual."

"But 'Barbie' sounds so unprofessional."

"Hasn't harmed the rest of us."

"Uh huh. And how many of you are there?"

"Theoretically," Biometric Engineer Barbie answered, "there are an infinite number of us. That's the nature of the multiverse. We're currently in contact with a few thousand, so far."

"Right. You've thought this through, haven't you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Psychoanalyst Barbie.

"All the effort you've put into this bizarre prank."

Psychoanalyst Barbie smiled. "I would try to assure you that this is not a prank, but you probably wouldn't believe me."

"You'd be correct."

"Fortunately, I don't need to try." At that moment, they entered the cafeteria, and Barbara was struck speechless. Her face was everywhere. The entire room was full of Barbara Millicent Robertses standing in line, getting food, and having conversations.

"That's about everyone's reaction the first time they see it," said Psychoanalyst Barbie.

"You get used to it after a while," said Biometric Engineer Barbie, "what's really amazing is that eventually you'll learn to tell them apart."

Barbara allowed herself to be led to the food line, barely aware of what was happening. She couldn't stop staring around her. Everywhere she looked, everyone shared her face. Everyone had different clothes on, and everyone had their blonde hair done up differently, but the faces were the same. She felt like she was in a toy store, looking at shelf after shelf of the same doll with different accessories. Occasionally, one of the women would see her gawking, give a little laugh, and wave at her. "It's like they know me," Barbara thought. She supposed that each of them had been in her place once, as well. With a start she realized that in order to believe that each of them had once been where she now was, she had to accept what she had been told: that she was one of an infinite number of Barbara Millicent Robertses in a vast multiverse. She felt like her whole world view shattered. It was one thing to have read about multiple universes as a theoretical concept and quite another to be dragged into another universe and come face to face with several dozen of your doppelgangers. It was like being a Christian who went to church at Christmas and Easter coming home one day to find Jesus walking on their swimming pool.

Before she knew what was happening, she was sitting at a table with the three Barbies with a plate of lasagna and a strawberry milkshake in front of her. She picked up the milkshake as though she weren't sure what to do with it.

"You look like you have so many questions you don't know what to ask," said Psychoanalyst Barbie. "Just relax and ask whatever you want."

Barbara was silent for another moment. Finally she asked "why is everything pink?"

Biometric Engineer Barbie burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

Barbara continued. "I mean, practically everyone here is wearing some shade of pink. The walls and floors are all shades of pink. Ever since I got here I feel like I've been wading through a sea of pink. You even got me a pink milkshake." She held up the drink for emphasis.

Biometric Engineer Barbie attempted to answer between fits of giggles. "There's no particular reason for it, we all just like pink. Whenever an option for tables or carpets or whatever come up, whoever's making the decision just tends to go with pink. Didn't you ever dream of living in an all pink house?"

"Yeah, when I was six and still went by 'Barbie.' I still don't mind pink, I just don't obsess over it like I used to." She took a sip of the milkshake. "Hmm, that's some good milkshake."

"You should try the lasagna," said Psychoanalyst Barbie.

Barbara took a bite. She chewed it slowly and swallowed. She stared at her tray in disbelief. "This is cafeteria food? This is the best lasagna I've ever had in my life."

"Of course, said Biometric Engineer Barbie, "the menu was prepared by the greatest chefs in the multiverse."

Barbara made short work of the fantastic lasagna. When she finished, she nursed her milkshake, thinking. The others were silent. She realized that they were probably waiting for her to ask questions. "So where are we?" she asked.

"That's a good question," said Biometric Engineer Barbie. "The answer is a bit complicated."

"We're in a small universe that one of the physicist Barbies created between regular universes," Police Profiler Barbie quickly answered. "We use it as a sort of secret base. Not that complicated, really." She looked at Biometric Engineer Barbie, who was staring at her, shocked. "It really isn't. Oh come on! Your explanation would have taken like five minutes." She turned to Barbara, "all the Barbies with a PhD always want to make things more complicated than they really need to be."

Psychoanalyst Barbie sighed. "While her explanation is somewhat blunt and simplistic-"

"-You mean 'straight and to the point'-"

"-It is, for the most part, accurate. A small team of Barbies who specialized in physics came up with the idea for this pocket universe and developed it as a sort of haven for Barbies to collaborate on ideas and solutions."

"Solutions for what?" Barbara asked.

"For everything. Your world has problems, right?"

"Well, yeah, of course." She considered this. "I suppose that all worlds do, don't they?"

The three Barbies nodded in agreement. Police Profiler Barbie spoke up. "They do. Lots of them, and no one can fix them alone. That's why they created this institute. Every Barbie has a piece of a solution to a single problem. They can form teams to solve individual problems, and those solutions can then be shared in every world."

"Like, what have they solved."

"Aids," Psychoanalyst Barbie answered, "they have cured Aids."

Barbara was taken aback. "Aids? Like, HIV Aids?"

"The one and the same. They discovered a cure five years ago, and a vaccine three years ago. Since then, we've been able to disseminate the cure and vaccine to thousands of worlds. Untold millions of lives have been saved thanks to the Dream House."

"The what?" Barbara asked.

Biometric Engineer Barbie answered, "The official title for this place is 'The Barbara Roberts Institute for the Progression of Humanity, but most of us just call it The Barbie Dream House because this is where our dreams become reality."

"So who pays for all of this?" Barbara asked.

Police Profiler Barbie answered, "well, it turns out that there are Barbies in more positions than just the academic. We've found businesswomen Barbies, many of whom own their own Fortune 500 companies. A number of them help provide materials for the Dream House and research. They've also helped us set up businesses and other organizations in our own worlds to aid in both gathering capital and the distribution and implementation of the various solutions discovered here."

Barbara looked down at her empty milkshake glass and considered a question that had been forming in the back of her mind, and which she was afraid she knew the answer to. "But why is it all Barbies?"

The other three grinned as though they were sharing an inside joke. In unison they answered, "Because Barbies are the best!"

Psychoanalyst Barbie chuckled at the look on Barbara's face and clarified, "There are a few reasons why there are only Barbies here. The first is that it's easier to gain your own trust than the trust of anyone else. It only took taking you to a cafeteria filled with your doppelgangers to convince you that we were speaking the truth. Imagine if you had no connection to us at all. The second is that, according to the physicist Barbies, it's easier for a Barbie to track a Barbie in another world. Finally, it's that in general, Barbies tend to be at the top of whatever field or profession they have chosen."

"That's what I meant when I said that the food had been prepared by the best chefs in the multiverse," Biometric Engineer Barbie said. "the chef Barbies are considered among the greatest chefs in their respective worlds."

"So the physicist Barbie who discovered universe travel, was the best in her world?" Barbara asked.

"Exactly," Psychoanalyst Barbie answered. "She was her world's greatest authority on parallel universes and created the device that allowed her to travel to and meet other versions of herself. In the beginning she couldn't travel very far, so the other Barbies she met were physicists, but they were able to contribute to her research and improve the device until we were all able to meet each other."

Something clicked for Barbara. "So that's why you kept asking me what my profession was, and were so surprised when didn't have one."

The Barbies looked uncomfortable. "Well, yeah," offered Police Profiler Barbie. "The only other Barbies we've met who never became world authorities on something were those who decided to become housewives and focus on their families more than their careers. Most of us did end up getting married, but we gave a little more focus on our careers than those who were happy being domestics. And here's the thing, even if they didn't become the greatest at something, the housewife Barbies at least kept up a bit with their hobbies and managed to become somewhat notable at them, whether it was writing, or painting, or teaching aerobics part time. Not being an expert on something is almost unheard of among us."

Barbara lowered her eyes again. "So I am a failure. I always thought I was."

Psychoanalyst Barbie leaned forward, her hands folded in front of her. "Listen to me. You are not a failure. Some people take a little longer to decide what they want to do. It's all right."

"All right for some people, but apparently not for a Barbie! Apparently, all my life I've had the potential to be the best at something, but because I could never make up my mind, I'm just a college dropout jumping from part time job to part time job!"

"Pretty much, yeah," put in Police Officer Barbie. "For now at least. Look: it doesn't matter what you pick. As long as you pick something, you'll be successful at it."

"You sound just like my parents," Barbara muttered, miserably.

Psychoanalyst Barbie put her hands up in a placating gesture. "We're not trying to lecture you, and we don't mean to be your parents. You've just ... caught us off-guard."

Barbara looked at her aghast. "You're caught off-guard? I've only been kidnapped and taken to a parallel dimension, but sure, you're caught off-guard! I'm sorry that my lifetime of failure has been so bad that it shocked the brightest minds in the multiverse!" She slumped back in her chair. "Look, I'm sorry. Just, please, take me home. I don't belong here. I don't have anything to offer to your little think tank."

"Are you sure?" asked Psychoanalyst Barbie. "There has to be something you can offer, and maybe we can even help you. After all, we are you, in a sense. There's nowhere you'll find someone to understand you better."

"Maybe, but this is a lot to take in. Let me think about it, please."

Psychoanalyst Barbie glanced at Police Officer Barbie, who gave a slight nod. "All right. We don't want to force you into anything you don't want."

The three Barbies led Barbara to a cubic room, about six meters wide, with all the walls completely black. Biometric Engineer pulled out what looked like a smartphone and began pressing buttons on it. "Give me a second to call up the portal," she said.

Police Officer Barbie stepped up to Barbara and handed her a watch with pink leather straps. "Here, if you want to get in contact with us, just press the top two buttons and hold them for ten seconds. Let us know what you decide."

Barbara took it, hesitantly. "Of course it's pink. Nice watch, though." She put it on as a circle about two meters wide opened on one of the walls, showing her bedroom beyond. "So I just walk through?"

Biometric Engineer Barbie nodded "yep, just like when we picked you up."

"That was the freakiest thing I've ever seen. I thought I was being abducted by aliens."

"Yeah, we get that a lot. Take care."

Barbara nodded and walked into her bedroom. When she turned around all she saw was her wall and the posters on it. She held up her arm and looked at the watch on her wrist. "At least I know that wasn't a dream. There's no way I'd have bought this for myself." She threw herself backwards on her bed. It was late, and she was tired, but her thoughts were racing a mile a minute. "That's got to be the freakiest thing that's ever happened to me." As far as life-changing events go, meeting your parallel universe doppelgangers had to be pretty high up there.

"They spoke too much, didn't they? I believe they speak too much."

Barbara sat bolt upright and stared into a set of eyes that matched hers above a bright pink ninja-style face mask. "Who are you? Why didn't I see you here before?"

"Do not concern yourself," the pink-clad ninja said, producing an aerosol can and spraying a light mist in Barbara's face.

As her vision faded to black, Barbara's last thoughts were "why is it all about pink with these people?"


End file.
